


Bottom Bunk

by orionstarlight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gender Neutral, M/M, domestic fluff but you're in high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: He opens the door, hair sticking out at odd ends after having been dried roughly with a towel, and another is slung on his hips.“I brought food,” you state simply, pointing at the bag in your hand.You comfort Semi after their loss to Karasuno.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Bottom Bunk

**Author's Note:**

> I am in love with Semi Eita. That is all.

* * *

It’s terrifying, knocking on his door. So much so, that it’s taken nearly a week for you to pluck up the courage to see him outside of class, but you figure it’s best to do it before the weekend, before he puts up a wall that makes you scowl because it’s impossible to remove.

His roommate doesn’t sleep at the school often, but you figured you’d let Kimoto know that you were going to be talking to him and that if he was planning on staying over, you don’t know how long it’d take. He’d assured you that it was fine, just as long as his snacks weren’t touched. (You’d be bringing your own anyway.)

So here you stand on Thursday evening, your last chance to catch him before he goes straight home tomorrow after classes end and he’s all done with practise, hand just hovering above the door.

He might not let you in, actually, even if you’ve got a bag of snacks he only allows himself on cheat days and some _tekka maki_ you’d made this morning before you left home. You’d have given it to him at lunch, but you figured it was better to wait until you were alone. And yet, now that you’re here, your guts have turned into worms and are trying to wriggle out of you.

You knock with the knuckle of your index finger, gentle like always. It’s how he distinguishes you from the rest of his teammates, who are either always over-excited or too firm. You tell him he reads too much into an action so simple.

There’s shuffling and you know it’s probably him tripping over one of his bags because he’s been dumping them on the floor instead of putting them under his bed. You hear a familiar crackle as he steps on what is most likely an unfinished bottle of an energy drink, followed by a low string of curse words.

He opens the door, hair sticking out at odd ends after having been dried roughly with a towel, and another is slung on his hips, body showcasing a very impressive set of abs. It’s a surprisingly familiar view, and you manage to focus on his eyes rather quickly. 

“I brought food,” you state simply, pointing at the bag in your hand. He takes a good look at it before opening the door wider and letting you in. It’s not a no, but it’s also not a yes, so you’ll wait until he’s vulnerable to catch him.

“Wasn’t expecting anyone.” You roll your eyes. “Give me five minutes, yeah?” And with that, he goes back into the bathroom.

With the snacks placed on his bottom bunk (which he’s actually managed to make), you go about throwing away any odd stuff that doesn’t belong on the floor into the bin under his desk and folding clothes into their respective drawers. Anything else you sort of arrange neatly, knowing he likes to clean once he’s out of his head.

If you think about it, you’re not really sure how to bring it up carefully. Your best option is to have his mouth full of food so he can’t talk back to you, although that might result in him not talking to you at all for the remainder of the evening.

Settled against the wall the bed is pushed to, you take out the food, grabbing the bigger portion that’s meant for him. He’ll probably notice that they’re not the same size, but you’re stubborn enough that he won’t try to pass some of it off to you.

His hair sticks up slightly less when he comes out, dressed in long pyjama trousers and a shirt he bought last year at Nationals, claiming he’d grow into it by the end of the third year. It’s still a little bit big, but he’s making good on his promise.

“Did we get assigned a project again? I don’t remember anything.” Right, so he’s really out of it. You wonder if he passed the biology test you guys had two days ago.

“No. I’m here as a friend who’s barely seen you all week even though we’re in the same class. Am I allowed to stay?”

It’s easy to see that he’s tempted to say no, but he’s better than that, so he takes his space next to you on the bed in silence, reaching for his portion of food. You tell him about Kenjiro completely falling flat with a girl from the swim team at the end of lunch when he’d left early, and that at least gets the tension out of his shoulders.

He’s on his fifth piece, you on your third, chewing slower, when he realises you’re just sating him with stories that you’ve been saving up during the week when you weren’t seeing each other, but it’s too late by the time he realises what’s coming.

“Everything’s all good and fun at practise, and it’s a really great facade, Sem, but your team deserves better. You’ve shut down, which I get, but you need to talk to someone, and that person has always been me, so forgive me if I’m confused as to why you’re not willing to trust me.”

It’s a lot to face him with. Semi likes his pride just as much as you do, but that’s why you have each other. It’s an agreed-upon thing between the two of you, that when you’re alone together, there’s no point in hiding.

“The team is ready for next year. I probably won’t continue volleyball in college. There’s not much more stuff to talk through.”

“Maybe the fact that you’re beating yourself up about not doing enough to get the team to nationals even though it wasn’t your fault? I was at the match. Everyone there was giving a hundred and ten per cent, two hundred, even. What more could you have done?”

You regret the question instantly and when you look at him, his eyebrows are knitted, lips turned downwards and pressed. “ _Everything_.”

You take the food out of his hands and place all of it safely on the nightstand, pulling him in close, letting him fist the front of your shirt, forehead against your chest as he keeps trying to fight off these feelings he’s putting off.

“You gave your all every time you were on the court, Eita, and I am so proud of you. The _team_ is proud of you, and your kouhais are counting on you to be there next year, watching them win Nationals.”

He was going to show up anyway, all of the third years were, but it’s still a big promise to make, especially after this year’s loss. But it’s Shiratorizawa. Everybody here is stronger than they look.

“We could have won. We were so close.” 

“But it’s not over just because you lost. There are people to pick up after you, now.” Your fingers find his hair and stroke gently, water still not dried yet.

He pulls away, eyes red and bleary, sniffing like he’s trying to prove he wasn’t crying, which is hard to believe with the tears still leaking down his cheeks. You wipe away at them, smiling gently, because you know this feeling of his. It’s not the first time you’ve been there to experience it.

It’s the feeling of not having been enough, something you’re both surprisingly used to dealing with. It’s nothing _easy_ to deal with, by any means, but that’s what the experience is for. You take his hands in yours, kissing each and every knuckle, like you’ve always done after he overexerts himself with serving and tossing practise.

It gives him the time he needs to collect his thoughts, become this level-headed player he usually is. He breathes in deeply through his nose, facing you with newfound determination in his eyes.

“They’ll win next year. We just have to make sure they’re in shape for that by the time we graduate.”

You can’t help the small laugh. “Right, because the first years are definitely ready for all of that. You can push them in the direction, at least, I think.”

He snakes a hand around the back of your neck and presses your lips to his, soft and gentle, unlike anything he is on the court. You melt, simply because it’s that easy, shifting so your legs are in a more comfortable position, hands on his waist under his shirt.

You pull away, cheeks tinged pink, always taken off guard at his bouts of romanticness. You smack his chest playfully for making you blush, knowing he loves it when you lose your composure.

“Thank you for coming by tonight. I probably wouldn’t have been likely to talk about this after the weekend.”

“You forget how well I know you sometimes, huh, Semi-Semi?” You know he hates the nickname, which makes it that much more fun to harass him with it, even if it means him trying to tickle you to the death.

“I take back my thanks,” he says, attacking the underside of your knees as you try to fight him off. 

You only manage to do so when he slips up and puts his face too close to yours, so you cup it and start peppering kisses anywhere available, feeling him relent in favour of taking your hands away and sending you a scrutinising glare.

“I better see you putting those first years to work tomorrow when I pick you up from practise.”

He raises an eyebrow and says, “Where are we going after practise?”

“My house.” His eyes light up. “I have a feeling we need to study for your retake of the biology test we had on Tuesday.”

His eyes drain of light and go wide.

“We had a biology test?”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
